Santa brought Marlo this giant plastic contraption for Christmas, something Jon and I refer to as The Babysitter when we need two free hands to make a meal or strangle one another because SOMEONE IS DOING IT WRONG, and her attitude toward it takes one of two forms: 1) LOVES IT! 2) I’M DYING, I’M DYING. This morning she was in heaven once we plopped her in, and Leta spent some time bouncing her around and teasing her. Afterward Leta was all, I did a lot of work watching that kid for you, where’s my treat? And I was all, your treat is a lifelong companion you get to call up and talk about how crazy your mom is. I THINK THAT’S BETTER THAN A COOKIE.
